I met these children at Grassy Narrows, a First Nations community near Kenora, Ontario. They were throwing remnants of this old building at my car. My first instinct was to drive away. Instead, I conversed with them. One child told me her parents drink. She keeps it a secret to avoid being placed in foster care again. The smallest child showed me where his mom is buried in the local cemetery. The most articulate child told me he'd been kicked out of school and wants to become a lawyer.

This sign was posted at the entrance to the Whitefish Bay First Nation reserve, near Kenora, Ontario. An elder and some children painted it in an effort to curb the reserve's alcoholism crisis. There were almost a dozen suicides on the reserve in 2005, many of them linked to binge drinking. Liquor is not sold on the reserve. Superficially, the reserve looks prosperous, with tidy and new homes. However, there is a large women's shelter, protected by a high fence and security cameras.

These graves are next to the school at the Wanipigow First Nation in Manitoba. The community leads a social healing movement for sexual abuse. Twenty years ago, women began to meet, to discuss experiences with violence and sexual abuse. They found widespread child sexual abuse in the community. To stop it, they drew on Anishnawbe spiritual beliefs to create "Community Holistic Circle Healing." The model is effective, but has not received ample support to be exported to other communities.

About 40,000 Inuit live in small Arctic communities such as this one in Nunavik, the Inuit territory in northern Quebec. This is Kangirsuk, a peaceful hamlet until alcohol became widely available. Before I visited in the spring of 2006, two women died here from alcohol-fuelled violence. Shelters, addiction treatment centres and mental health services are not available. Their leaders believe keeping Inuit busy on the land and restoring cultural and spiritual traditions is part of the cure.

These children are in a classroom in Kuujjuaq, Nunavik. Civil servants were shown the school as part of the Arctic Tour, an event sponsored by the Inuit Tapirit Kanatami, an organization representing Inuit. If the Inuit didn't sponsor the tour, many civil servants who administer policies would have no understanding of the people most impacted. In some classrooms, we met children with fetal alcohol spectrum disorder, a preventable brain injury that occurs when women drink during pregnancy.

I met this young man at the "AA Round-up and Camp-out" that is held every summer on the Esketemc First Nation (Alkali Lake) near Williams Lake, B.C. He told me he lost his arm when a train ran over him. He had passed out drinking on a railway track. He became sober following this tragedy and today he's a husband and father who contributes greatly to his reserve and its economy. There is a strong sobriety ethic on this reserve, thanks to the work of people like Andy and Phyllis Chelsea.

The picturesque Esketemc First Nation in B.C. This is cowboy country, except the Indians used to be the cowboys, so Andy Chelsea says. Despite success with sobriety, the reserve remains in poverty. The Shuswap people were driven off their traditional lands, which were given to gold miners and ranchers in the 19th century. Neither a treaty nor land claims agreement has been signed with the Shuswap. Until then, people here will remain proud but poor, with no economic base.

Phyllis and Andy Chelsea, the stars of "The Honour of All." When an Innu friend from Labrador, at the other end of Canada, knew I was going to meet this couple, he asked me to bring him back some sweetgrass, sage and the Chelseas' autograph. They provide telephone counselling for Aboriginals inspired by their work. They are truly wonderful people, but their good works and fame have not brought them prosperity.

Carrying baby brother "piggy back" on the Esketemc reserve. The success of social healing in this community is reflected in the children's faces. They have benefited most from the work that began here with the activism of the Chelseas. Aboriginal communities have, on average, much younger residents than other communities in Canada. According to Statistics Canada, the average age of a First Nation resident is 27. It's 40 for the rest of Canada.

A sign at the entrance to the Sagamok Anishnawbek First Nation reserve northwest of Sudbury, Ontario. Here the people have drawn up a 10-year social healing and community development plan. They are making tremendous strides. The plan has engaged the community in creating its own vision. On many levels, people are waking up here and seeing a new future that doesn't include addiction.

I met Gail Valaskakis at the Aboriginal Healing Foundation in Ottawa. She was the research director, a woman who inspired and impressed me. In 2006, she presented a sound business plan to federal government representatives, that the Aboriginal Healing Foundation be permitted to continue its work. Her idea was denied, and she died from cancer in 2007. I have dedicated my book to her memory because she embodies all the values that characterize the Aboriginal recovery movement in this country.

The Healing Our Spirit Worldwide conference at the Shaw Centre in Edmonton, August 2006. This international event, held every four years in an indigenous community, was created by Canadian Aboriginals in 1992 and has been a great success. A week of workshops explores the social problems facing colonized people, and solutions are shared. There are exuberant displays of indigenous culture at plenary sessions twice a day, and the food is to die for! The event is a Canadian Aboriginal triumph.